


Yours

by onedirectionrody



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content, Teasing, general adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 11:24:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onedirectionrody/pseuds/onedirectionrody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We've all seen that clip of What Makes You Beautiful when the lyrics turned to "the way that you flip your hair gets me uhhhhh." Let's be honest, no one minded. Except maybe, when the lights went down and everyone went home to watch the footage, his boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all of the people reading Homeless Houses and being so incredibly sweet in reviews and kudos!! You said you couldn't wait until Sunday, so I figured I'd give you a little something to tide you over. Thank you guys!

They were both musicians, so it was no surprise that they fell in love with each others’ sounds.

 

Before Louis even saw Harry that first day of auditions, he had heard him – that raw rasp, the way he shaped his vowels. Louis had known he was in trouble before he even turned around.

 

For Harry, it had been Louis’s laugh – that high, surprised titter when someone said something shocking and a little bit dirty. Louis had been laughing with some new friends (Louis always made friends so quickly) and Harry had whipped his head around so quickly that his Mum had gotten a mouthful of brown curls. When Louis had made his excuses to go to the bathroom, Harry had made his too.

 

Even now, living together, Harry still felt shivers up his spine when he heard Louis singing in the shower or giggling to himself while watching Grease for the 10,0000th time.

 

And Louis knew when Harry was close to tears before Harry even did, just by the sound he made, low in his throat, just before.

 

And Louis knew when Harry was close to coming apart before Harry even did, just by the way he would moan, low in his throat, just before.

 

Because it hadn’t taken long for their sounds to turn into “I love you” and “Don’t go” and “I miss you whenever you aren’t touching me.” It hadn’t taken either of them more than minutes to fall in love, though it took months to admit it to each other, and they weren’t allowed to tell their fans.

 

It had been a good night. It always was when they were in concert. Harry had flirted at least as much with Louis as he had with the audience, had winked and pouted his lips and run his hands through his curls, just because he knew it got to Louis. And Louis had smiled until his eyes crinkled up at the corners, licked his lips, and pelvic-thrusted especially hard to Up All Night, just because he knew how it got to Harry.

 

But it had been better than usual, because Louis had gotten a bit handsy between songs and possessively groped Harry’s ass, right in front of everybody. And it had been better than usual, because when Harry had leaned into Louis and whispered into his ear, what he had said was “I love you” and his lips had brushed Louis’s earlobe in a quick, needy kiss.

 

So maybe that’s why Harry was so keyed up when they finally got to What Makes You Beautiful in the set list. Maybe that’s why, when he got to his solo, Liam saw how tense he was and dug his thumb into a tight muscle between Harry’s neck and his shoulder.

 

And maybe that’s why Harry moaned, long and loud, in the middle of the solo.

 

A girl in the fourth row promptly fainted. Niall and Zayn immediately started cackling, pawing at each other and not even trying to muffle their guffaws. Liam just rolled his eyes and mouthed an apology to Harry.

 

Harry was not paying attention. He was too busy trying to get Louis to look at him. When he finally did, it was with a tired, crooked smirk that didn’t reach his eyes.

 

#

 

They rode back to the hotel in silence. Normally, they would be riding the high from their performance until much later. Normally, Louis would be tickling Harry or nuzzling his cold nose into the warmth of the younger boy’s neck while he squealed “I swear to God, Lou. How is your nose always cold? What are you? Part Pomeranian?”

 

This time, though, Louis was pressed against the opposite side of the van, as far from Harry as he could get. Liam was alone in the middle row of seats, leaning his forehead against the window and, quite obviously, yelling at himself. Every once in a while, he muttered something to himself “stupid… immature… idiot” and knocked his head against the icy glass. Zayn was moping because Liam snapped at him every time he leaned over the back of his seat to reassure him.  Niall was moping because the rest of them were moping, and because no one had let him stop for takeout.

 

Honestly, Harry expected Louis to lock himself in their bathroom when he finally opened the door to their hotel room.

 

Instead, the door had hardly closed behind them when he was being pinned against the door, Louis’s fingers already tangled in Harry’s t-shirt and his tongue probing Harry’s lips. Harry was startled, but so, so relieved. And, of course, more than a little seduced by the way Louis kissed him, like he was necessary, like he was oxygen. And his mind was going deathly quiet, the way it always did when Louis was touching him, not so much like everything else had stopped, just like it had stopped mattering.

 

And then Louis was pushing him onto the bed, his delicate hands pushing Harry’s clothes off, biting and sucking at his neck. His fingers were wedged between Harry’s shoulder blades and the sheets, his nails scraping down his back.

 

Harry’s eyes were wide, pupils blown out, mouth gaping at the sharp jolt of pleasure-pain that shuddered to the base of his spine.

 

But then, Harry felt damp on his neck, looked up at Louis and froze, all remnants of arousal suddenly gone. Louis was crying – big tears, face scrunched up, shaking shoulders – crying. He continued to claw at Harry’s back, not noticing it had tensed.

 

“Lou, Lou, Lou,” Harry whispered, pulling the older boy’s arms from behind his back and pinning them to his side, rolling him until he was curled into Harry, sobbing into his chest.

 

“Shhhh, shh. What’s wrong?”

 

“I’m just so jealous, Harry. All the time. And I try to hide it because I hate being that person, but I can’t help it.”

 

“Is this about earlier, Lou? You know I don’t care about Liam like that. You just had me so keyed up, and I thought it was you and it just slipped out. Please don’t be angry, babe. I didn’t mean it and it won’t happen again, I promise.”

 

“But that’s not even it! It’s just that, that noise was one of my things. Like I’m the only person who is supposed to make you make that noise, and I’m the only person who you can look at like you do, and I’m the only person who gets to hold your hands.”

 

“All those things are still yours, Lou.”

 

“But they’re not! The entire audience knows the face you make when you moan like that, now. And you kiss our fans on the cheek all the time! And you spent hours holding that Taylor Swift girl’s hand!”

 

“I thought we weren’t going to say her name out loud anymore.” Harry visibly shuddered.

 

“She can write songs about you, Harry. I’m not allowed, but she can. And no one can know that I’m the one you kiss and my hand is the one you want to hold and I’m the one that gets you to make those noises.

 

“And I get that you’re supposed to be the flirt and I’m supposed to be with Eleanor. It’s just… it’s like I’m losing you. It’s like you’ll never be just mine.” Louis was still crying, and when he brought his arm to his eyes to wipe away the tears, an awful noise escaped his mouth, a cross between a gasp and a groan. “I hurt you! I hurt you. Harry, are you okay?” There was blood beneath Louis’s fingernails and, as if in recognition, Harry’s back throbbed.

 

“Shh, shh,” Harry whispered as Louis frantically tried to push the much larger boy onto his stomach. “It doesn’t even hurt.”

 

“But it has to! I made you _bleed_ , Haz.” Harry finally turned onto his stomach and Louis gasped, immediately running to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. He wiped away the few droplets of blood beading on Harry’s pale skin, then continued running the cloth over the shallow scrapes, over and over again.

 

“Lou,” Harry said softly. But the only response was the continual, gentle swipe of the cloth across his back. “Lou!”

 

Louis stumbled back, bracing himself against the headboard with his forehead pressed against his knees and his arms tightly clasping his legs.

 

“I’m so sorry, Harry. I just… I wanted to make sure you knew you were mine, and I got carried away.”

 

“I liked it,” Harry whispered tentatively and Louis’s face snapped to his.

 

“What? Haz, you don’t have to try and make me feel better.”

 

“No, Lou. I really, really liked it. I like it when you leave marks because I love knowing that I can press my fingers where your mouth was and feel like you’re still there. And I like everyone knowing I belong to someone, even if we can’t tell anyone it’s you. And I like how helpless and out of control I feel when you get a little rough. And I really love it when you take care of me afterwards because you touch me like I’m precious, you know?” Shyly, Harry looks up at Louis through his eyelashes. “And I _am_ yours. I never, ever forget that.”

 

Louis darted across the bed and pulled Harry into his lap so the younger boy was curled around him. “Harry, love, you are precious. You’re perfect, do you know that?” he whispered into Harry’s curls as the younger boy relaxed into him. “And I’ll never get tired of hearing you’re mine. Because I’m yours, you know. And I’ll never be able to be anyone else’s.”

 

Harry gasped. They had been saying “I love you” almost since the day they had met, but this was the first time that their questionable future had been addressed by either of them. “I’ll never let you, Lou,” Harry said, awestruck, “No one can take you from me.”

 

“Of course not, you idiot. You’re HarryFuckingStyles. Who else would compare?”

 

“Shut it, Boo Bear.” The two boys settled into silence, limbs tangled together, content.

Harry was almost asleep when he heard Louis whisper into his hair, “So these ridiculous curls are mine?”

 

“Yours.”

 

Louis moved then, hovering over Harry. “And these eyes?”

 

“Yours.”

 

Louis brushed his lips over Harry’s eyelids, letting the younger boy’s long eyelashes tickle his mouth. His fingers glided over Harry’s cheekbones.

 

“Yours,” Harry answered, not needing to be prompted this time.

 

The older boy kissed over Harry’s jaw line, sucking the skin just under his ear into his mouth, then soothing the already-forming bruise with his tongue.

 

“Yours,” Harry’s voice rasped.

 

His tongue darted out to flick his earlobe.

 

Harry hummed, eyes darkening. Louis pulled back. “W-wait, Lou. Come back. Yours.”

 

Louis grinned, then scraped his teeth along the long line of Harry’s throat, leaving a red mark in his wake. Harry’s hands fisted the sheets.

 

“Yours,” he whispered, finding himself without enough air to properly speak.

 

Louis traced the other boy’s sharp collar bone with his fingertips, then dropped his mouth, biting and sucking at it.

 

“Yours, yours, yours.”

 

Louis gently kissed the two sparrows on Harry’s chest, still in awe at the smaller one with the arched brows, the one meant to represent him. Harry felt him still, felt his tongue poke out and trace the bird reverently, saw the emotion in Louis’s eyes as they searched for all the tattoos on Harry’s body, many of them corresponding to his own. The permanence of them hit Louis suddenly, and he imagined, for a second, Harry explaining their lives together to a little girl (with Harry’s eyes and Lou’s wispy hair) sitting in his lap pointing at the “Oops” tattoo in Louis’s handwriting.

 

“Yours, Lou. Yours,” Harry said softly, and Louis knew that he really meant “yours, forever.”

Eyes a little moist, Louis ducked his head and brushed his lips against one of Harry’s multitude of nipples. Harry jumped and giggled, rolling his eyes when Louis insisted on kissing the other three.

 

“Yours,” he said between chuckles. And the moment was not the same as it was just seconds before or even a moment or two before that, but they were warm and safe inside it.

 

The giggles turned into moans as Louis mouthed along Harry’s stomach, tracing the outlines of his muscles with his tongue, gently pulling a few of the hairs leading to the waistband of Harry’s boxers between his teeth and tugging. Harry gasped desperately.

 

“Yours. Jesus, Lou. Stop teasing. I _can’t._ ”

 

Louis stopped and smirked at the writhing boy beneath him and wondered how the yards of pale skin draped over muscle and bone were his, how the red, red lips that gaped open with his pants were his, how the flush on dimpled cheeks, how it was all his, his, _his_.

 

Overwhelmed, he tugged roughly on Harry’s boxers, and watched the younger boy’s cock slap against his stomach. Yes, this was his too, and as he looked up at Harry’s half lidded eyes, the boy stuttered.

 

“Y-yours, Lou. Only y-yours.”

 

Louis winked at him, and Harry rolled his eyes and opened his mouth, about to make a smart remark. Louis whispered “Don’t even think about it, cheeky,” right before engulfing Harry in his mouth.

 

“L-lou,” Harry moaned, not prepared for the sudden rush of heat that settled in his stomach.

 

Not slowing down at all, Louis looked through his long eyelashes up at Harry, and the younger boy almost came immediately, fisting his hands in the sheets and hoping he could last long enough that Louis wouldn’t be able to make fun of him later. But Louis was doing that thing with his tongue, following a pulsing vein up the shaft and then twirling around the head and holy shit, holy shit, flicking his tongue and gripping the base with his hand and twisting and Harry was coming fast into the older boy’s mouth, trying not to buck his hips into the warm and wet.

 

Louis grinned up at Harry, who was blinking blearily, boneless and sleepy. “You’re lucky I love you, babe. That was what? A minute?”

 

“Shu’up. Wanker.”

 

“I don’t have to wank. I have youuuu.”

 

Harry grinned. “Lube’s in the top drawer. And despite the fact that I’m the more inexperienced one, I think even I know enough to know that you should probably be a little bit less fully clothed if this is going to work.”

 

“Shhh, babe. We both know you just want to see my arse again,” Louis replied cheekily, quickly stripping his clothes off.

 

“‘Course I do. Best part of the day!”

 

Louis rolled his eyes and crawled up to straddle the younger boy, planting a kiss on the tip of his nose. The mood changed swiftly, Harry’s back already arching, trying to get just a bit closer.

 

“Little eager, are we?” Louis whispered, so close that as he spoke, his lips brushed against Harry’s.

 

Harry moaned and tried to kiss Louis, who pulled back a little. “Always, Lou.” He whimpered.

 

Louis crashed his mouth into Harry’s, and for a moment it was all lips and tongue and teeth, all neediness and desperation and a little bit of pain when Louis bit one of Harry’s already plump lips with his sharp teeth. Harry moaned and tried to get closer, but Louis pushed him down, against the bed.

 

He held Harry’s wrists in his hand above Harry’s head “Stay.” Harry just whimpered in reply.

 

Louis spilled some of the lube onto his finger, slowly, slowly pushing it into Harry. Harry arched his back and closed his eyes, then opened them and nodded. Louis pushed another in, scissoring them and brushing that spot that made Harry’s brow furrow and his head fall back.

 

“Okay, babe?” Louis asked.

 

Harry blinked twice, as if the question didn’t quite make sense, then smirked. “I could be better.”

 

Louis rolled a condom over himself, kissing and sucking Harry’s neck. Then, he slowly eased himself into the younger boy, waiting a moment for him to adjust.

 

“Better?” he grinned teasingly at the boy beneath him.

 

“Please, more, Lou,” Harry whined, so Louis began to move.

 

“Say it again?” Louis groaned into Harry’s neck.

 

“Yours, Lou. Always yours. Forever. As long as you’ll have me. Yours.”

 

“I love you, Haz.”

 

“I love you too, Lou.”

 

The two boys were completely and totally tangled, so close that Louis couldn’t reach between them to push Harry over the edge. So close, that when Louis came, Harry didn’t need his hand to come immediately after, all over both of their chests.

 

Harry snorted. “Well I made a bit of a mess that time.”

 

Louis smirked, “At least you made it to around two minutes that time.”

 

“Oh come off it. I may have lasted two, but you definitely only made it to a minute and a half. Let’s be honest. You were that girl in the fourth row just now.”

 

“I also hadn’t come a few minutes before.”

 

“I’m also still a teenager!”

 

“HOW DARE YOU MENTION MY ADVANCED AGE.”

 

“Oh here we go.” The boys went into the bathroom and wiped themselves down, throwing whatever clothes happened to be on the floor over themselves. Louis’s shirt barely covered Harry’s ribcage and Harry’s shirt went almost to Louis’s knees. They looked each other over and shrugged.

 

“Good enough,” Louis murmured. Harry hid a grin, loving the way the smaller boy drowned in his clothes.

 

They opened the door to find Liam in the fetal position, just outside their room.

 

“Uhh… Li?” Harry asked.

 

“Came to apologize… heard… Jesus. You guys are not quiet.”

 

Harry blushed, but Louis just smirked. “Jealous, Lee-yum?”

 

Liam just glared and, not wanting to shift from his fetal position, rolled away dramatically.

 

“Well,” Harry said as he watched the “sensible one” struggle to avoid the walls. “Want to order room service and fuck some more?”

 

“I’m going to go with yes.”

 

Much, much later, when Harry was still coming down, half-lidded and kittenish and sleepy, Louis pulled him into his side and kissed his temple.

 

“Goodnight, Haz. I love you.”

 

“Goodnight, Boo. I love….” Harry trailed off into snores. But Louis didn’t need to hear the last word to know, just as he would always know, that Harry was talking to him and only him. And as he drifted off himself, he muttered into the crook of Harry’s neck “Yours.” He wasn’t bothered that Harry didn’t hear it. It had never even been a question. 

**Author's Note:**

> Review if you'd like :)


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